


Absolution

by dismalzelenka



Series: A Song in the Stillness [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Crying, F/M, Hurt / Comfort, Inquisitor Amell AU, Kisses, Non-Warden Amell, cullen rutherford is a hot mess, mentions of dairsmuid, mentions of kinloch, sex with feelings, skyhold is cold y'all, so is amell though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismalzelenka/pseuds/dismalzelenka
Summary: Somewhere in the quiet nights, hushed conversations, and hesitant companionship, Cullen and Solona realize they may finally be able to start putting the past behind them. Takes place in Skyhold after Here Lies the Abyss and Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts.Recommended listening while reading this fic:Bated Breathby Tinashe.





	Absolution

“Do you think there's even such a thing as redemption? For people like us?” Solona watched her breath fog the air when she spoke, and the canyon below Skyhold’s battlements seemed to swallow her voice whole. 

“I don't know,” Cullen said finally. From anyone else, it would have sounded terribly evasive, but coming from him, the uncertainty was almost reassuring. “Perhaps it depends on who you ask.”

Solona chuckled and lifted the ale she'd pilfered from the Herald’s Rest, taking a long, exaggerated draw from the bottle. “Look at us, meeting in the middle and finally agreeing on something. Guess we're finally growing up. Into truly awful people, probably, but I suppose that's better than nothing, right?”

That drew a quiet laugh from his lips. “Is that all we are?” He cocked his head sideways and flashed a crooked smile. “At this point, I had braced myself for something far worse.” 

“I think we've both seen enough of what constitutes as ‘far worse’ at this point in our lives, Commander.” She leaned against the cut stone and shivered as the cold bit through thin sleeves, and she silently cursed herself for not thinking to bring a coat. Her years in Rivain had eroded any modicum of resistance to the cold she could have developed growing up in Ferelden. 

“I…” his voice cracked when he spoke. “I'm sorry. About Dairsmuid. I…had already left the Order when it happened. Sister Leliana provided me copies of the reports this morning when I asked, and I…” He trailed off, his words a little more than a whisper now. “I know the things I've said to you. I know what you must think of me after the atrocities I demanded as retribution so many years ago. I…” 

Solona froze, the breath leaving her lungs when she realized he was  _ crying  _ behind her. 

“A better man would have held his tongue. And when we argued in Haven…a better man would not have stooped so despicably low. I do not consider myself worthy of your forgiveness, Solona, but please, I…the things I have accused you of doing pale in comparison to the sins I myself have committed, and…Maker preserve me, I am so sorry.” His voice broke over the last apology, and she turned in spite of herself, throwing her arms around him and  _ falling  _ into his chest, and then the tears were flowing freely and she was sobbing openly into his shoulder as ten years of bottled up grief burst forth from her chest in a torrential uproar. 

“Never again, you big, dumb idiot, do you hear me?” she gasped into the scratchy fabric of his cloak, beating a fist against his chest. “Don't you  _ ever _ push me away like that again.” It was all she said, and all he had to hear, for them to both remember the way they had parted from each other in the wreckage of Kinloch Hold, hatred and vitriol butting against heartbreak and disbelief until both of them shattered into pieces that time scattered mercilessly into the wind. 

She felt his arms encircle her waist, his lips against her hair, and he was murmuring something against her head and whether the words were meant for her or for him alone didn't seem to matter much. She was frozen there, choking out muffled sobs like she'd done nightly for so many years, but this time the tears were met not with empty aching but with the cold, clean embrace of absolution, and she wondered as he shook against her, overcome by similar emotions, if he felt the same way. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Maybe she was saying it. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was both of them, chanting desperate pleas for forgiveness while clinging to each other, seeking life lines in vessels that had so recently been repulsed simply by each others’ presence. Vessels that, before all of the hatred, had once burned with something that could have resembled love. 

They had shared a variety of kisses over the years. At Kinloch, their kisses had been hesitant and exploratory, kisses shared by lovers who were, by and large, too young and inexperienced to really understand the meaning of the word. As of late, if they kissed at all, they had been the kind of biting, searing kisses shared by lovers who weren't quite  _ lovers _ , their coupling only bound by the lust that rose up after bouts of burning, seething rage that always left angry red marks across both of their bodies they would both spend the next few days struggling to hide from the rest of their companions. 

The kiss they were both falling into now, arms threaded around each other, desperate and grasping, fingers clutching cheeks and carding through wind swept hair, tears blending together where their faces touched - this was the kiss of two people who had clawed their way to each other through the Void itself, loathe to ever let go again lest something else dare rip them apart. 

“I love you,” he wept. “Sol,  _ I love you _ , and the number of times we almost lost you…thinking you could have died not knowing how I never  _ stopped _ loving you-” 

Solona silenced him with another kiss, more desperate than the last. Then they were stumbling back against the door to his office, and the door was swinging open behind them, clumsy fingers slamming it closed again and fumbling on the latch with crazed fervor. She felt herself sinking to her knees onto the floor with him, still tangled together, lips and tongues vying for purchase as they clung to one another and refused to let go. 

He broke free just long enough to pull the cloak from his shoulders and spread it on the floor. They pulled their hands free of gloves and tangled fingers into buckles and straps and laces until they were leaned into each others’ bodies, skin to skin, still breathing uneasily against each others’ lips. 

_ I love you.  _

She says it first this time, and her hands draw reverence on his cheeks. 

_ I love you.  _

He begins to wonder if he will ever be able to say those words to her again without his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

_ I love you.  _

They breathe the words against warm, pliant skin as desperate, grasping fingers wind together against the cloak on the cold stone floor. Neither of them can really remember what it was like to give of yourself so utterly and completely to another person, but here in this moment everything feels  _ good  _ and  _ right  _ for the first time in years. 

_ I love you. _ It is a mantra she chants against his lips, neck, and earlobe as her hips move in tandem with his, and the cock buried into her core is her anchor, her strength, and her salvation. 

When they find their release in each other, there are no more words, no more apologies or declarations of love or desperate pleas for forgiveness. 

There is heat rising from two bodies tangled together on the floor between a wool traveling cloak and fur blanket hastily grabbed from a nearby chair, stray papers scattering the space around its wake. There are more tears, wordless but no less fervent, accompanied by shaky caresses and clinging embraces. 

There is hope, forgiveness, peace, love, and absolution. 


End file.
